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WINTER PICTURES 



A WHITE DAY AND A RED FOX 



npHE day was indeed white, as white as three 

 feet of snow and a cloudless St. Valentine's sun 

 could make it. The eye could not look forth without 

 blinking, or veiling itself with tears. The patch 

 of plowed ground on the top of the hill, where the 

 wind had blown the snow away, was as welcome to 

 it as water to a parched tongue. It was the one 

 refreshing oasis in this desert of dazzling light. I 

 sat down upon it to let the eye bathe and revel in 

 it. It took away the smart like a poultice. For 

 so gentle and on the whole so beneficent an ele- 

 ment, the snow asserts itself very loudly. It takes 

 the world quickly and entirely to itself. It makes 

 no concessions or compromises, but rules despoti- 

 cally. It baffles and bewilders the eye, and it 

 returns the sun glare for glare. Its coming in our 

 winter climate is the hand of mercy to the earth 

 and to everything in its bosom, but it is a barrier 

 and an embargo to everything that moves above. 



We toiled up the long steep hill, where only an 

 occasional mullein-stalk or other tall weed stood 

 above the snow. Near the top the hill was girded 



